Young Writers Society

Hello everybody. Like last time I'm only going to post the first half of the chapter since the second half isn't finished. I'll be thankful for any reviews, even if you only review a half of it. Thanks in advance.

Chapter 3: London

The man pulled and held the trigger of his submachine gun. Gabriel yanked Glennings out of the car just as the bullets escaped the barrel, embedding themselves into the backseat of the cab.

Gabriel dragged him into the alley and threw him behind a group of trash cans. He reached into his jacket, pulled out his two Webley revolvers, and used the cans for cover.

“Are you okay?” he asked as a barrage of enemy bullets rained in. He looked over when there was no answer. Glennings was sweating and panting incessantly, clutching his chest. Blood was seeping through his fingers.

Gabriel heard footsteps coming there way. He whipped out from behind the trash cans and opened fire. Two men had joined the first and they were running down the alley. He caught them by surprise and hit the center runner in the chest. He was sent sprawling to the ground as the others retreated out of the alley.

Gabriel hid back behind the trash cans and flicked open his guns’ chambers. He had three bullets left in one, two in the other. He made sure the gunpowder wasn’t wet and then flicked them closed again.

“Harper,” came Glennings’ weak voice. He spoke so quietly that Gabriel hardly heard him over the crack of gunfire.

“What?” Gabriel said, shooting a couple shots to keep the men at bay.

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

Gabriel didn’t answer Glennings’ question. He shot once more when he saw the two remaining men begin to stalk closer. They were taking turns covering each other so they could acquire more ground.

A bullet whizzed through all the garbage cans and flew just above their heads. Loose pieces of trash fell on the two of them as they ducked down low.

Glennings grabbed Gabriel by the collar and pulled him close to his face. “I don’t like you, Harper,” he wheezed, his pungent breath exploding in Gabriel’s face. “But I don’t want the bastards who killed me to get this.” He pushed the page into Gabriel’s chest. “Don’t let them get what they wanted out of this. Take it and run.”

Gabriel was stunned by Glennings’ command. Never would he have expected him to make such a sacrifice. Gabriel knew from experience that he could be vengeful, but to think he was willing to give up his life was astonishing. It was selfless, it was brave, it was generous, it was… Not like him.

“Damn it, Harper, I said run!”

Gabriel put the page inside his coat and nodded. He jumped out from behind the trash cans with his two Webley revolvers in hand. He took aim and shot the last of his ammunition at the two men. His drinks, for the first time all night, began to affect him. He realized that his first shot hitting its mark had been a miracle as his bullets flew by the men harmlessly.

Gabriel turned around, put his guns into their holsters, and ran for his life, bullets at his heels. His heart was pumping with adrenaline, giving him the energy and speed he desperately needed. He looked for a place to use as an escape, but the only one he could see was the door leading back into the action house, and it was still a long ways away. Your luck may finally be running out, he thought.

The two men saw his destination and looked at each other with confidence. They were in an alley with no cover but the abandoned trash cans and the man without a weapon was running down it. Killing him would be the easiest thing they’d ever done.

The men took their time aiming and then fired. Gabriel heard their shots and braced himself for the flesh slicing pain of bullets, but they never came. He looked back, expecting to see the hot lead flying at him like a freight train, but what he saw almost made him stop running.

Glennings had picked up one of the garbage cans with the last of his strength and began running at the two men. He was shouting curses as he charged, his body convulsing each time a bullet pierced his skin.

He’s blocking the bullets for me, Gabriel realized in disbelief. He’d misunderstood Glennings completely. He’d always thought of him as the rich, cowardly type who hid behind big men that were paid big money to watch his sorry back. Now he knew differently. Gabriel made a silent oath that he’d never speak badly of Glennings again if he survived this. ‘If’ being the keyword, he thought to himself.

Glennings’ bravery invigorated him, giving him the strength to move faster. He sprinted down the alley like a track star and found himself at the door as Glennings fell to the ground. The two men ran to the body in hopes of finding the page, but he knew that they wouldn’t find it. And then they’d come after him.

The door opened just as he was reaching for it. A man came out with another submachine gun and aimed it at Gabriel. Unwilling to let Glennings’ sacrifice go to waist, he plowed into the man and tackled him back into the auction house. Those who were still inside gasped as they saw the two fly in from outside.

Gabriel accidentally kicked the gun away as he knocked the man out with a punch. He tried to grab it before it was out of reach, but he missed. The gun slid all the way down the isle, and he knew he couldn’t take the time to get it. Knowing he may regret it later, he ignored the weapon and ran for the main exit.

He was panting heavily now, and his blood splattered suit attracted everyone’s eyes. When he passed by they dodged him as if he were a monster. He smiled when he realized that he’d probably react the same way when confronted by someone like himself.

Gabriel glanced back and saw one of the men running through the door. The man turned from side to side as he tried to locate his enemy. Where’s the other one? Gabriel wondered.

The moment Gabriel was in his sights, the man whipped out his gun and shot a round at him. Everyone screamed and fell to the floor as the ammunition shot above them. Gabriel was the only one not doing so. If he stopped he’d be dead. So he ducked mid run and sprinted on, feeling the hot lead flying over his back.

The main entrance was getting closer and closer with each step, its doors wide open. He could see himself sprinting through them and escaping into the streets. It was so close.

The gunshots ceased, causing Gabriel to look back again. The man was fiddling with a new cartridge for the gun. Gabriel laughed victoriously as he realized he was going to make it.

The other man from the alley walked in through the main entrance and aimed his submachine gun at Gabriel. He stopped laughing. They’d surrounded him.

Acting on instinct and not thinking it through, he took out one of his guns and chucked it at the man.

The attack took the man by surprise as the heavy piece of metal struck him between the eyes. He fell back and pulled the trigger of his gun, the bullets shooting in an arch as he neared the ground.

Gabriel doubled back and ran for the only other exit he could see; a door at the back of the stage. By then the first man had reloaded his gun and, instead of first taking aim, he began firing randomly. The bullets rained havoc upon the room as they cut through the walls, the furniture, and the light fixtures. When Gabriel ran by the bar it and all its contents exploded in a fury of glass and alcohol as it was hit by the barrage of ammunition. He shielded his head with his arms to protect it from the shattered, falling glass.

The stream of bullets began to follow Gabriel as he ran past the rows of seats. He fell to his knees and started crawling towards the door, praying that they would block the enemy’s fire.

The seats were ravaged by the ammunition, the cushions destroyed and raining their feathers everywhere, the wooden frames exploding in a world of splinters. By the time Gabriel reached the last row he was covered from head to toe in debris.

The door was just a few feet away, but the man was still firing at Gabriel. If he went now it would be no better than suicide. He had to do the one thing he hated more than anything else in situations like this. He waited. Fortunately, it wasn’t for long.

The bullets suddenly stopped firing. Gabriel peeked over the edge of the seats and saw the man reloading. Now was his chance.

Gabriel sprang up and ran for the door, keeping an eye on the man. He was still fitting in the cartridge as Gabriel yanked open the door.

He heard the firing of a submachine gun as a sharp, burning pain shot through the back of his right calf. Gabriel cried out and fell through the doorway. He looked back before he hit the ground and saw his attacker. It was the man he’d thrown his gun at. He was back on his feet and firing a round at Gabriel with a bitter look on his face.

The heavy door closed behind him, but the bullets still pierced through it. Ignoring the pain as best he could, Gabriel crawled over to a large statue and kicked it in front of the door, creating a barricade.

The door had led him to a less glamorous part of the auction house; the storage area. It was filled with auction items from new cars to statues, like the one he’d just kicked over.

Gabriel looked down at his right leg, which was dripping with blood. He rolled up his pant leg and studied the wound closely. There was a small hole on the back of the calf and a slightly larger one on the other side. Good, he thought, So the bullet went all the way through.

He took off his tie and wrapped it tightly around the wound. He cringed his teeth in pain and thought of other things to take his mind off it. As he tied it in a not, he let a single gasp escape his lips. When he was done, he inspected his work carefully, and determined it was good enough for the time being.

“Who are you?” came a frightened voice from the darkness.

Gabriel looked up and saw a man sitting on top of a crate. He was hiding within the shadows, so he hadn’t noticed him before.

Not caring to answer, Gabriel asked his own question. “Is there a way out back here?” He stood up and limped over to the man. Now that he was closer, Gabriel immediately recognized him as the auctioneer. “Is there?” Gabriel said harshly when he didn’t speak up.

“No.” he answered quickly. “I would have left by now if there was.”

“Damn it!” Gabriel yelled. He punched his fist into the wall. He brought it back dripping with blood. He was trapped

Someone rammed up against the door, causing the statue barricade to shudder dangerously. Gabriel panicked. He grabbed the auctioneer by the collar and lifted him up. “Is there any way out?” he said. “A window, a weak wall, anything?”

The auctioneer was shaking and sweating. He could barely form his words. “T-there’s a w-window upstairs t-that leads t-to the roof.” He pointed towards a staircase over in the corner.

“Thanks,” Gabriel said, dropping the auctioneer. He stumbled over to the stairs and hopped up the steps on his one good leg.

When he reached the top he heard a crash from below. “Where is he?” spoke a fierce voice.

Gabriel heard a slap and the auctioneer cried out in pain. “H-he’s upstairs!”

Gabriel limped away from the stairs and looked around desperately for the window, but he couldn’t find it. The room was completely filled with crates of forgotten auction items that were stacked and set up like a maze. It was also almost too dark to see. There was only a dim light from the occasional light bulb to illuminate the room.

Gabriel could hear the men running up the steps. They’d be there any minute. He looked side to side, not sure where to go. Finally, he picked a large gap between the walls of crates and ran for it, silently coping with his leg’s pain.

“Is he there?” Gabriel heard one of the men say.

“I think so,” answered the other. “I saw a flash of movement over there.”

Their footsteps were coming his way, so Gabriel pushed on through the gap. He tried to make as little sound as possible, but he couldn’t quiet his thumping heart.

His eyes now used to the darkness, he just barely made out an opening ahead. He trudged on towards it with the highest of hopes. If it was the window he’d be home free.

It wasn’t.
///
Alright. That's part one. Part 2 should already be up.

Gabriel yanked Glennings out of the car just as the bullets escaped the barrel, embedding themselves into the backseat of the cab.

Gabriel dragged Glennings into the alley

In my opinion repeting "Glennings" after you had previously mentioned his name seemed to draw my attention away from the story you were trying to convey, using a synonym like him, can help your audience retain which character you are refering to while keeping your story intact. Keep at it (although, the violent imagery was a tad too much for my liking) you still have an audience who really likes that specific writing style.


Sincerely,
-Elitehusky

I decided to make this chapter shorter than the others just recently, so this parts really short. I'll be adding some of my previous post to this so its a bit bulkier. And pardon me taking so long.

///

Gabriel found himself face to face with a solid, wooden wall. There was a single light fixture on it shining dully, but there was no window. Disgruntled, he turned around and tried to find another gap to escape through, but he soon noticed that there was none. He was trapped again.

Gabriel tried his best to stay calm, but panic still crept into him. He could hear the men in the distance walking towards him. You should have gone after that gun, he thought to himself, and now you’re going to die because of it. Glennings died for nothing

That last thought filled Gabriel with anger. It overwhelmed his fear and gave him the spirit to continue.

He took in his surroundings and tried to figure out what he could do. He studied how and where the crates were stacked, he took note of all the shadows, and he started forming a plan.

That’s it! He thought. He grinned to himself. He was going to make it.

///

Alberto walked behind Frederigo. He pointed his submachine gun forward and checked his hat to make sure it still hid his facial features. Their boss had said that no one could see their faces, and he’d agreed. It wasn’t good for people to see your face when you’ve killed a man.

He could see an opening with a light up ahead and Frederigo seamed to notice as well. He looked back at Alberto and motioned for him to get by his side. The two walked towards it cautiously.

The sound of glass cracking shattered the silence. Alberto froze in his spot and tried to locate its source. He looked over at Frederigo to ask what to do, but he was staring forward intently.

Frederigo looked back to Alberto and pointed towards the opening. Alberto nodded in response.

They crept slowly towards the opening. It was nerve racking not knowing if the enemy was up ahead, but Alberto was as used to it as Frederigo, who’d been experiencing it for years.

They stood in the entrance to the opening. They peered inside and noticed it was empty. The man they were chasing wasn’t there. Both of them sighed, letting the tension drop. They were about to turn back, but Alberto thought he saw a glint of glass out of the corner of his eye.

Alberto grabbed Frederigo’s shoulder and pointed at the source. There, sitting in the middle of the opening, was the framed missing page. The glass of the frame was cracked as if it had been dropped there by accident.

“He must have dropped it while running by,” Frederigo scoffed. “What a clumsy fool.” He took a step towards it with Alberto right behind him.

///

Gabriel gave the unstable tower of crates a shove. The two men yelped in surprise and tried to get away, but it was too late. Gabriel had won.

The heavy crates buried the men and muffled their cries. Gabriel jumped down triumphantly from his hiding place and picked up the framed page. He put it back into his coat and turned towards the men. Their heads and torsos were sticking out from the rubble, their arms trapped beneath the crates. He couldn’t see any blood, but he assumed that the internal damage was massive.

Gabriel walked over to the one who seamed to be in the best condition. He took off the man’s hat, grabbed him by his hair, and made him look up into Gabriel’s face. The man’s eyes bulged in pain, but he didn’t make a sound.

“Who are you?” Gabriel asked. When he didn’t answer, Gabriel jerked the man’s head back ferociously. The crates must have damaged his spine, because the look of pain on his face almost made Gabriel back down out of pity.

“Who are you?” Gabriel asked again.

This time he answered. “Frederigo.”

“Who sent you?”

He was even more reluctant to speak about this. His lips were now sealed and didn’t look like they’d reopen.

Gabriel was about to jerk his head back again, but sirens sounded in the distance. The police, he thought sadly.

“I guess I’ve run out of time,” Gabriel sighed. He began to walk away, but stopped in hesitation. He went back towards Frederigo and kicked him in the side of the head, his shoe digging into his temple. Frederigo cried out again before loosing consciousness.

“That one’s for Mr. Glennings.” Gabriel said before limping to his escape.

////

Mr. Wilkinson sat behind his desk in his office. It was an early Sunday morning and outside the window he could see the sun peeking over the horizon. He was looking over the payment records of each tenant to make sure they hadn’t skipped out on any expenses.

He came to Gabriel Harper’s records. “Another day gone, more interest added,” he said unenthusiastically. He took out his black notepad and wrote it down. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever get paid.

Someone knocked on his door. “Come in,” Mr. Wilkinson called. He neatly stacked the payment records and put them to the side as the door opened.

A man walked in through the doorway and stood before Mr. Wilkinson. He wore the helmet of an officer, a blue trench coat, and an armband with the words “Constable Lurrey” written on it. He had an orange, neatly trimmed mustache and a stern look on his face. There were two other similarly dressed officers that fell in behind him.

Mr. Wilkinson wasn’t sure how to react. He couldn’t remember doing anything illegal, atleast not for a long time. So why were they here?

“Ronald Wilkinson?” Constable Lurrey asked. His voice was harsh and demanded answers even if his tone revealed no such intent.

“Yes, that’s me. What do you want?”

“We’re here to ask you some questions about one of your tenants.” Mr. Wilkinson relaxed a little. They weren’t after him.

“I’ll answer what I can, but as you can see,” he pointed to the pile of payment records, “I’ve got some work to do. So lets make our conversation quick.”

“Don’t worry. It won’t take long.” Constable Lurrey said. He found a chair in front of the desk and sat down in it. “Now,” he began. “Do you know a Gabriel Harper?”

A smile crept across Mr. Wilkinson’s face. “Yes, I know him.”

///

Gabriel sat up in his bed. He moaned as his head ached vengefully from his hangover. He pushed off his covers, stumbled out of bed, and went over to the sink. He turned the water on and threw some of the cool liquid into his face.

The night before seamed so unreal to him now. For a while he thought it was a dream, but then he saw the framed missing page on the table. And then he looked down and noticed that he was still wearing the same, torn up, blood covered suit. “What a night,” he muttered.

He needed something to wake him up and get him going, so he decided to make some coffee. He went over to the stove and turned on the gas. It hissed quietly as he searched for a match. Once he found one, he lit it and held it over the gas, creating a small flame.

He saw a pan in the sink already filled with water. There were small pieces of food from another day floating in it, but at this point he didn’t care. He just wanted some coffee.

Gabriel set it over the flame and turned the gas knob to increase its heat. As the water boiled, he stripped down and looked for some new clothes in his closet. He put on a khaki shirt and then his shoulder holsters over them. As he pulled up his denim jeans he saw his bandaged bullet wound. The night before, when he’d come home, he’d found another beer in his fridge, used it to disinfect the wound, and then properly bandaged it. It seamed to be healing properly, so he left it alone. He emptied the pockets of his suit and transferred them to his new set of clothing before returning to his coffee.

Gabriel found a pack of instant coffee in a cupboard and poured it into the boiling pan of water. He took a wooden spoon and mixed it slowly.

Knocking came from the door. Gabriel carefully set it the wooden spoon down and looked through the door’s peephole. He presumed it was going to be Mr. Wilkinson, but it was someone much worse. It was the police.

How could they have figured out who I am this fast? He wondered as he frantically searched the room for a coat to cover his shoulder holsters. He found one of his old, leather jackets and put it on. He buttoned it up and was about to answer the door, but then he saw the bloody suit on the ground and the framed page on the table. The police knocked on the door again, this time calling, “Gabriel Harper, this is the police. Open up!”

“I’m coming,” Gabriel yelled back. He grabbed the two pieces of evidence and stashed them in his closet. After making himself presentable, he answered the door.

Three men, one with a Constable armband and an orange mustache stood in the doorway. “Can I help you, Gentlemen?” Gabriel asked friendly. He tried his best to hide his nervousness, but the Constable looked like a well seasoned officer that couldn’t be fooled.

“You are Mr. Gabriel Harper?” the Constable asked.

“Yes, I’m Gabriel. And who are you?”

“I’m Constable Lurrey. We need to speak with you for a moment.”

“Can we talk on the run? I’m on my way to church, you see.” If they were outside he would have a chance of running away if, or most likely, when the conversation went sour.

“Sorry we can’t,” Constable Lurrey smiled at him. “But don’t worry. It won’t take long.” He turned to the other two officers and told them to wait outside the room. Probably to block my only escape, Gabriel thought.

The Constable walked in before being invited and shut the door behind him. He wasted no time in beginning his interrogation. “Mr. Harper, where were you last night?”

“Out drinking,” Gabrel answered truthfully.

“Would you mind telling me where?”

Gabriel paused as if trying to remember. “It’s a little hazy, but I know I went to atleast three different places.” He made sure to be as vague as possible in case they were going to check his story out.

Constable Lurrey pulled out a notepad and copied down what Gabriel had said. “And what time did you get home last night?”

“Oh, It was late. Atleast midnight.”

Once again he wrote down Gabriel’s answers. “And do you recognize this gun?” From one of his pockets he produced a Webley revolver; Gabriel’s Webley revolver.

He must have let some emotion show, because the Constable grinned. Gabriel wondered how he could have been so stupid as to throw away a weapon with his fingerprints on it.

Constable Lurrey put the gun on the table and started looking around.

“Are you searching for something?” Gabriel asked with a hint of hostility. When he got angry he had bad judgment, whether it was directed at a single person or himself it didn’t matter. He tried to stay controlled.

The Constable looked back at Gabriel and asked, “Can I see you’re right leg?”

“No. Not unless you tell me why you’re here.” Gabriel knew, of course, but he had to make it seem like he didn’t.

Constable Lurrey ignored him and kept looking around. He went over to the closet. Gabriel tensed up and the experienced officer noticed immediately. With a self satisfactory grin, he pulled open the closet’s door.

Gabriel pulled his gun from the conceiled shoulder holsters and pointed it at the Constable. He hadn’t noticed yet because he was staring at the bloody suit and the missing page.

“Don’t move, Constable,” Gabriel said to get his attention. He looked up at him and was startled to see the gun pointed his way. Gabriel hadn’t wanted to do this, but by now they had enough evidence to put him away for life. He still hadn’t found the garden, so he couldn’t let that happen. The constable started laughing.

“That guns unloaded. I checked it before we came.”

“Constable, the gun you brought is still on the table. This is my other one.” Constable Lurrey looked over and saw he was right. He showed no fear, but his laughing immediately ceased.

“Now take the framed page you saw and put it on the table next to the gun.” The Constable did as he was told and kept Gabriel within his sights.

“You don’t want to do this, Mr. Harper,” he said. “You’re only making it worse for you.”

Gabriel ignored him. “Now put your gun on the table, and be careful. You make too much of a move and I’ll shoot.”

The Constable slowly reached into his trench coat and pulled out a gun. He set it on the table and stepped away from it.

“Now go by the bed and get down on your hands and knees.”

“You won’t even be able to escape, Mr. Harper. My men are outside the door.”

“Just do it,” Gabriel said, loosing his patience. When he was on the ground, Gabriel walked over and reunited his guns with their holsters and grabbed the Constable’s gun.

“In case you were wondering, both my guns were empty,” Gabriel said spitefully.

Constable Lurrey’s face just barely showed a little redness as Gabriel opened the room’s only window. He stuck his legs out and got ready for his leap of faith. “And just so you know. Those people shot first. I was just defending myself.” To show he meant it, he popped out the gun’s cartridge and jumped out of the building.

The Constable ran to the window expecting to see Gabriel dead on the sidewalk, but the actual result made him laugh. Gabriel had landed on the purple canopy, bouncing off it harmlessly and landing on the ground. He sprinted down the road at an athlete’s pace. Constable Lurrey was about to call the other officers, but they would never catch him.

“This will be very interesting, Mr. Harper,” he muttered. He hadn’t had a good challenge in a long while. “Let’s see how long you can run.”

Wow, this was pretty good. I liked it. Very action-filled and well-written. I have nothing bad to say, so nice writing. Oh, by the way, my favorite line was when Glennings asked Gabriel if he was going to die. Very sad.